Frostwriting

Bee Season

by Carolyn Scarbrough

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Here, among the hedge of tiger lilies
are a few obscene long throated lilies, garishly
large, each with a lipstick pink star center spayed

wide.  The fraying sea of tiger lilies
are practically conservative.
A fat bee enters a tall long throated lily

there by the overgrown garden, by swim suits
hanging on the line while the children
play. We know it can’t continue

much longer, pretend the sea of late nights and
unstructured days will continue.
Sarah tells Jack

with all her nine year old authority
that she is to be in distress and he
is to rescue her.

He throws back his thin preteen
shoulders and saves her over and over again.
I imagine the bee

stumbling out, drunken, imagine
the future man in the boy, trying
so diligently to be a proper hero

and the future woman
in the take charge maiden
throwing back her blonde head

calling save me, save me,
as she is carried to the picnic table castle
of her choosing, laughing deliriously.

Carolyn Scarbrough has published in Gulf Coast, Poet Lore, Sundog, Tar River Poetry, Conduit, Connecticut River Review, High Desert Journal,   Minnesota Review, and The Southeast Review. She has an MFA from the Bennington College Writing Seminars, works as a pediatric ICU nurse, and is the mom to five kids, two dogs and the cat. Basically, she says, she writes despite all the reasons to not write, much like a willful child!

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